


6 Years Apart

by RedXD



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Death, Don't ship the real people, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Grian needs a hug, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Mental Instability, Mentions to EvoSMP, Mumbo needs a hug, Near Death Experiences, No Smut, Panic, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Scars, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats, Time Travel, Vomiting, burn scars, lots of pain and suffering, only minecraft personas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24090346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedXD/pseuds/RedXD
Summary: Mumbo didn't expect it to happen. He didn't expect it to work. Now he's stuck 6 years in the future where a virus has caused a zombie apocalypse.Staying alive is a challenge as he tries to go back.Luckily he has a random stranger to help him, right? It's not like anything could go wrong.
Relationships: Charles | Grian & GoodTimesWithScar, Charles | Grian & Taurtis, Oliver Brotherhood & Charles | Grian, Oliver Brotherhood & Steffen Mossner | Docm77, Oliver Brotherhood & Viktor | Iskall85, Oliver Brotherhood/Charles | Grian, Slight Docm77/BdoubleO100, Slight Iskall85/Stressmonster
Comments: 58
Kudos: 135





	1. Time Is Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I'ma go ahead and state right now: I'm probably not going to be very great at this. I'm trying my best, but I'm super unsure of what I'm writing so if a character seems off in any way, please let me know what part of the way they are portrayed seems OOC so I can try to improve my portrayal of them. Also please be forwarned that this fic will get very dark. Anyone who knows me from New Friends To Be Acquired should expect a much darker and intense plot (It will start out slow though). I don't want anyone to read something that'll make them uncomfortable so if you think this will be fluffy and cute like NFTBA than it won't be. 
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy and I will most likely be doing Weekly to Every Other Week updates depending on my motivation. For now they'll be weekly. 
> 
> Thanks <3

Time is a concept that Mumbo never used to be interested in. Machinery and engineering were far more important to him. Of course, he’d indulge in sci-fi sometimes and he always found science to be one of his better subjects at school, but never once had he thought about experimenting with time itself. However, three and a half years ago, his friend Iskall, a fellow engineer, sent him something he’d found in the garbage when he was throwing away something. 

He’d found a drawing of concept art for a time machine. Some ideas and messy scribbles were there too, but whoever made them had thrown them away for some reason. Iskall worked with him at an engineering company and they both agreed on how interesting the concept of a time machine is.

They also agreed that they could create it.

Something as whimsical as a time machine might’ve been ludicrous, but Mumbo wanted to make an actual time machine. The first one. So Iskall and Mumbo grabbed a few friends and began to work on just that.

However as the years flew by, Mumbo became the main one to have faith in the possibility. Iskall still helped work on it, but he created other things and never made the machine his primary focus. Doc, one of the friends who began the project with them, came over to Mumbo’s office every now and again, but slowly he began to come over less to help with the machine and more to question why Mumbo hadn’t stopped the project despite the many many failures and near impossible chance of _actually_ creating something that worked.

Mumbo still had his heart in the machine though.   
  
He’d named it Time Transport for now.

…

Mumbo walks into his office and loosens his tie before stepping over to his desk.

Papers are all over the place. And the entire desk is a mess of pens, scrapped ideas, and blueprints.

_I could probably organize this or make some sort of automated system… But I should really get this machine working._

He decides it can wait.

Time Transport stands about a foot taller than him. Which in of itself is impressive to most in the office, considering Mumbo is taller than everyone else in the office. Except Doc. Doc manages to reach his height equally. The machine is white with a light blue sphere at the top.

Whoever designed it made it both simple and pretty. The size is small, but manageable. He wishes he could thank whoever made the paper Iskall found years ago for making such a perfect concept design. Mumbo definitely wouldn’t have been able to design anything as neat and pretty.

Now it’s his job to make the machine actually _work._ He’s been taking a break with working through the actual mechanics however. Today he’s going to get working on an activation method. So far he’d been using an electric activation from his computer, but today he’s disconnecting that activation method and replacing it with a voice activation.

The door creaks open slowly with a knock and Iskall stands in the doorway, “Hey, just wanted to say good morning! You going to be working on that all day?”

Mumbo raises an eyebrow, “Well yes, why _wouldn’t_ I be working on Time Transport?”

Iskall smiles, “No reason, just wondering. Anyways, have fun then.”

He closes the door.

The hours pass and his suit jacket clings to him as he works. It’s humid today and he loosens his tie as he finishes the voice recognition. It will only react if you say a date and Time Transport, so accidental activation is unlikely.

Now he tinkers with the machine itself.

He takes a deep breath before standing up and dragging his feet towards his desk. He swipes a water bottle off his desk, chugging down the entire bottle.

_I can’t tell what the issue seems to be… Guess I’ll have to keep trying._

He huffs out a breath and takes a look at his machine.

_I keep failing… Maybe I won’t ever get it to work. Is all this time spent just wasted?_

The thought hits him harshly. He sighs and slumps against the desk.

_There has to be a way this could work… But what am I supposed to do?_

Mumbo puts a hand on his chest and inhales, then exhales.

_Stupid stupid stupid.. Giving up after all this is just dumb. Of course it’ll take years for the first time machine to be made. I just have to keep working._

He recycles the bottle and then goes back to work.

After about thirty minutes, there’s a knock at the door.

It stirs him from his focus. He gets up from behind the machine and steps towards the door, “Yes?”

Behind the dark oak rectangle reveals Doc.

Doc glances at the work in progress machine behind Mumbo. “Is that all you’ve worked on today?”

Mumbo furrows his brows, “Yes?”

The other sighs, “Don’t you think you should work on some other projects too?”

_That would double the time it’ll take to finish the machine… I can’t take even more time to finish this._

“It’ll take a while to get this machine to function right and other projects might lengthen that time.”

That causes the other to frown, “Mumbo, it’s been years. At this point you’re costing this company more money than you’re making.”

_Is that all he cares about? What about creating something important… something that’ll change the world?_

He bites his lip. He knows the risks. He knows it’s dumb. He doesn’t know what is making him so stubborn to make this machine work, but he just can’t let it go. He wants it to become something. Something more than a waste of money and time.

His eyes lock onto the papers on his desk, he can’t hold eye contact with Doc. He feels ashamed, but that doesn’t mean he can just stop.

“It’ll work. You just have to trust me.”

Doc takes a step forward towards him, “Trust you? Mumbo, we’ve been trusting you for years. When will you realize that it won’t work. You can’t travel through time!”

_He’s right… He’s right…_

_But I can’t let go._

Mumbo turns on his heel and trudges over to the machine. He runs his fingers along the smooth white quartz.

“In six years… In six years, we could become something. This machine could change the world. I know I can finish it within six years.”

Neither of the two individuals notice the first small dot light on the machine, right above the door, blink on.

The other man nods, “I’m sure there is… a possibility of that. However, it’s an unlikely outcome and we cannot spend any more time funding a dud project.”

His hand stops tracing lines on the machine and he turns to face Doc, leaning against the door.

Mumbo grips at his hair, “Doc, you have to understand that Time Transport isn’t a dud. It’ll work… I know it will.”

The second light on the machine blinks.

Doc seems to be reaching his limit, “It’ll work?! In what-- In six years?! We don’t have six years to wait for your stupid machine to actually activate!”

Before Mumbo can respond the door flings open as the third and final light on the machine blinks. He falls backwards in a rush.

His head aches as his vision goes black. Within the final few moments of consciousness, he hears an automated voice:

_“Activation successful.”_

—  
  
The first thing he recognizes as consciousness returns to him is a throbbing pain in his head. It pulls and tugs at the back of his head.

Choosing to bite back the pain, he heaves open his eyes. It’s darker.

_How much time has passed?_ _  
_

His memories are slightly foggy and he can’t quite remember what happened before he passed out.

Mumbo sits up and glances at his surroundings. He’s in a small white space… wait..

His time machine? He doesn’t remember going inside it.

Then everything hits him like a brick.   
  
The fight. The door opening… The automated voice.

That kind of thing, has _never_ happened. _Ever._

He swallows and slowly stands up. His fingers gently trace over the button to open the door.

_There’s no way it worked right? Doc must’ve just left me here or something… But Doc wouldn’t do that. What… Where is everyone.. Have I been passed out for a while? Is that why it’s so dark outside the machine?_

Mumbo gulps before pushing the button. The door swings open and he nearly double takes.

The office is a mess. Papers are shredded and scattered all over the floor and desk and walls. A pen is on the floor with ink spilling out of the bottom of it. A worrying red substance is splattered on the wall to the left of the door.

The light is shattered and the only light is coming from the windows which are broken too.

He frowns, stepping out of the machine and carefully treading around the office. Even _he_ would never let the office get _this_ bad.

_What happened here?_

His eyes trail over to a newspaper on the floor. He walks over to it and bends over, grasping the wrinkled paper.

_There’s no way… How…_

At the top of the Newspaper it has a date:

_April 20th, 2036._

Mumbo wouldn’t be freaking out, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s from the year _2031._

_My machine worked._


	2. Rescues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW -> Dead Bodies & Vomiting

Mumbo’s brain goes into disbelief.

_It worked…._

_My machine worked… I finally…_

He runs a hand through his hair. Pride fills his veins at the first success.

Memories of his argument with Doc boil in his head and he remembers him mentioning six years… mentioning time transport… Doc said activate and that must’ve been what caused it to work.

Then it’s immediately flushed out as he remembers his surroundings. The papers, the windows…

If this is the future, then what happened?

The door is open in such a way it looks like someone rushed out.

Mumbo feels an anxiety bubble in his chest. He has no clue what the future holds, quite literally in this sense. His office seems safe… but he can’t guarantee safety outside his office.

But… he needs to explore. For science.

He slumps over to the door and begrudgingly steps out into the hallway.

None of the lights in the hallway or other offices are on either. There’s no signs of life, just papers and open doors.

_What caused everyone to rush out so quickly…?_

His fingers drag across the hallway walls. Everything is abandoned and unlike anything he would’ve imagined.

Most think of a hopeful, better future. He agreed with those people, trying to hope for a good future. However….

Nothing so far about this quite screams _good_.

Mumbo walks down the stairs and suddenly stops.

_No… what… no…_

Dried blood covers a white lab coat and peach skin. The blood is flaky.

The corpse has a horrendous smell of decomposing and a massive chunk in the head is missing.

Cub.

Mumbo isn’t close with him. He works on the other side of the building.

But he’s dead. He couldn’t imagine him dead. He wouldn’t wish him dead.

But he is. His body lies sprawled in the stairwell.

Cub’s pale, limp head is rolled over to the side, his skin shrivelled and folded. The grey strands of hair are dead and dry.

Vomit threatens to spew from Mumbo’s mouth. He can feel the chunky liquid in his throat, but he swallows it back down.

_What happened here? I can’t believe he’s dead…. Why is he dead…_

His heart beats rapidly. He can’t take this, he has to go back. Any more of this future and he might have nightmares for weeks. No, he already _will_ have nightmares for weeks.

Spinning on his heel, he strides through the hallway. He swallows the sick feeling in his stomach and pushes into his office.

Time Transport stands tall, the _only_ thing in this future world so far to be still standing strong. He steps over the papers and the red-- the blood, all but grasping the time machine door. He presses the button frantically.

He doesn’t like this future anymore. He wants to go back. To go back to safety and Doc yelling at him. He’d rather be yelled at than see another dead body… Another dark hallway.

Everything is eerie and it chills him to his bones.

The door pops opens and he shoves himself inside, “Year 2031, six years ago from now. Time Transport. Activate!”

Silence.

He repeats himself.

Again.

And again.

He says the same thing ten times. Nothing happens the first time… Nothing happens any of the times.

_Why isn’t it working?_

Mumbo speaks louder this time, “Year 2031, six years ago from now. Time Transport. Activate!”

Nothing.

Anxiety builds in his chest like blocks. Higher and higher, the tower of fear grows until it is so massive that it presses against his throat and ribs.

He swallows. He repeats. He says it slowly and fast. Loud and quiet. He adds words in between and doesn’t. He does _everything_.

Nothing makes the machine start. Nothing makes it work.

Nothing makes it _bring him home._

Slumping against the inner right wall of the machine, he gasps as his breathing goes to shit. Breathing in and out worse than a rag doll, he heaves, gripping tightly at his tie.

_Why isn’t it working… It worked.. It got me here. Why can’t I go back?_

His brain screams for an answer, trying to think through what might be going wrong.

_Maybe this is all a dream?_

He pinches himself tightly, wincing when a burst of pain erupts in his arm. He pinches again. And again. Over and over.

Pain cascades from his arm over his entire body. After ten minutes of pinching himself with all his strength, he lets go. His arm has gone numb.

It’s so hard to breathe that he almost feels as if he’ll pass out, oxygen barely even reaching his lungs. He continues to gasp, his lungs trying for any bit of air accessible.

His mind feels muddled. He wipes his eyes, scrubbing them clean.

After a while, he calms himself down.

_Okay, so I’m currently stuck in the future._

_In the worst, most deadly looking future imaginable._

Mumbo takes a deep breath and gets up. He taps the button above the door and shakily exits Time Transport.

The office is just as eerie as it was before he entered.

With a heavy sigh, he treads over the papers and back down the hall. He closes his eyes, gripping the hand rail and staggers past Cub’s corpse, making his way to the first floor of the building.

He glances around. No dead bodies in sight. He releases a nervous breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding before slowly walking towards the front doors.

Pushing open the doors, he trips forward, barely catching his balance.

His eyes dart downwards and he gags, his hands becoming clammy. Nausea overwhelms his senses.

A head. No body.

Just a head.

It’s like a pumpkin, soft and squishy. The head has bits and chunks missing similarly to Cub’s corpse. Dried crimson sticks to the neck. The head’s eyes are wide open, blank pupils staring at him as if _he_ did this.

_Did I? Is my time travel related to this?_

The thought makes him become even queasier.

Mumbo covers his mouth and averts his eyes. He tries to hold it down, but after a moment, he bends over and chunders onto the sidewalk. His insides spew from his mouth as he coughs violently and loudly. Small chunks fall onto the sidewalk, a few rolling a few centimeters.

_Why are there so many bodies? Where are the people who are still alive?_

He wipes his mouth with his hand and then immediately gags again, shaking his hand rapidly. Saliva pools in his mouth.

_I feel extremely sick._

His eyes look over the puke and he swallows down any remaining lumps in his throat.

A sound startles him from behind.

“Grr...ghh…”

Jumping, he spins around and screams.

Someone… Something. It stands there with it’s arms and torso sagging downwards. It’s eyes are dark and squishy while the entire thing is as pale as paper.

It looks sorta like a zombie from the Walking Dead or something.

Mumbo back steps, but then hears more noises from behind him. He turns his head and see two more of the zombie-like creatures approaching him.

_Oh no._

He turns to escape in the space between them, but another zombie is there too. Before he knows it, he’s completely surrounded.

His heart rate quickens immensely.

Thump. Thump. ThumpThumpThump…

His body tenses as he plans to try to escape, but then…

He just stops.

His arms fall and he stands, unmoving.

_What have I even done so far with my life? Make a half working time machine that brings you to a deadly, gross future? Get stuck in that future?_

_Is there even anything I have left? If these things kill me now…_

His heartbeat slows down.

He’s terrified. But the feeling of uselessness and complete heart wrenching defeat reign superior to that.

Maybe he doesn’t have to run. Maybe he can just give up and stop having to work so hard on a dud of a machine. He can run away and not have to face his reality.

Sometimes the best thing to do is to just let it happen.

Mumbo closes his eyes and lowers his head, preparing himself for his inevitable end.

Silence, filled only by raspy groans.

He hopes that whatever happens when you die is better than this. Better than his wasted life.

Thud.

Thud. Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Whatever those noises are… Those footsteps, he ignores them. They’re from the zombies.

Or they’re not?

Something grabs him by the wrist tightly and he hears crashing and banging. Suddenly he’s being pulled along by the warmth creeping up his arm.

His eyes flicker open.

In front of him is a small boy, a foot or more shorter than him. His skin is a pale ivory color and messy sandy blonde curls cover his head.

Mumbo lets himself be dragged by this skinny boy, surprised to see a living person in all this death.

He’s dragged for another five minutes until finally the boy stops and lets go. They both step inside an abandoned coffee shop.

Booths line the wall and tables are scattered about. There’s no smell of coffee grains or tea. Just the smell of dust and wood.

He runs a hand through his hair before turning around to face Mumbo.

The boy has bright blue eyes and barely-able-to-see freckles. He wears a black scarf and a red sweater with a grey and blue backpack. Black jeans with grey sneakers and a belt with small pouches on it completes the entire look.

He puts his hands on his hips, “What are you, a spoon?”

_Wait what._

“Am I a...spoon?”

The other nods, “Were you just going to let those zombies eat you?”

Mumbo shrugs.

“Seriously?! What were you thinking?”

He doesn’t really know what he was thinking.

Maybe he wasn’t.

  
“I don’t know…”

The boy sighs and glances around, “Okay well let’s just be glad I was there in time. So, what exactly were you doing in front of _that_ building?”

Mumbo frowns, “I was leaving?”

The other’s eyes widen, “How long have you been there? I didn’t think anyone would be able to raid that place and live to tell the tale.”

“Raid? Nono, I was just--” He shuts up, realizing that ‘I’m from the past’ probably isn’t the most sane sounding statement.

However, the boy presses on with a nosy hum, “You can continue, what were you doing?”

He swallows, “I-I-” He frowns, “What were you doing in the area? You must’ve been doing something before you found me.”

“I was barely ‘in the area’ usually people don’t tend to scream or make as much noise as you did. Seriously, who in their right mind screams like that?”

Mumbo huffs defensively, “I was caught off guard!”

The boy deadpans, “Why were you not on guard?”

Without thinking, he gestures vaguely, frustration clinging to his side, “Because it’s not like I _expected_ there to be zombies in the future! Why would anyone think that the future would be this deadly in only a few years?!”

He freezes.

In front of him, the short boy’s mouth goes agape. He blinks, “What now?”

Mumbo rubs his arm, “I’m kinda from six years ago?” He cringes at how unsure he sounds.

The boy chokes on air, “H-How is... that... possible?!” He coughs.

“I don’t know! One second I was being told that Time Transport would never work, the next I’m s-stuck in the worst possible future e-ever!” He gasps for air, feeling the anxiety return.

The other grabs his arm, “Breathe… Breathe..”

The warmth from before floods his body and despite how cold he feels, his face burns.

He calms and takes a deep breath, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Sor-” He cuts himself off when he spots the boy’s sharp look.

The shorter boy sits on a table and tilts his head towards him, his sparkling blue eyes bright and curious, “So you’re seriously from the past?”

Mumbo nods, “Yes.”

The boy grins and jumps off the table, walking towards Mumbo. He holds out his hand, “Okay Mr. From The Past, I’m Grian.”

His heart swells and he isn’t sure why.

“I’m Mumbo. Mumbo Jumbo.”


	3. Learning and Trying

Grian's eyes crinkle and he giggles, "Wow aren't you all fancy, giving your last name too."

Mumbo feels his face heat up and he ducks his head, "I-I was trying to be polite!"

The other giggles even harder, "Your face is _so_ red!"

He laughs and goes to shake Mumbo's hand, but stops. "Did you vomit?"

The comment causes him to glance down and he realizes in horror that his hand is still gross.

_Stupid.. Stupid.. Stupid.._

"I- Well.."

Grian smirks, "Yeah if you're still puking at dead bodies, then you're definitely from the past. Seeing dead bodies is commonplace here."

"That's not exactly a good thing," He frowns.

Instead of responding, Grian strolls over to the front of the shop and pushes two chairs in front of the door. He stands there for a good minute in silence, before shrugging and glancing over his shoulder at the other with a mixed expression.

His blue eyes are a violent storm of unreadable opinions and thoughts. He smiles a dark and shadowy smile.

"I like to think it is."

Silence.

Neither of them move, or speak. It's a long moment of quiet tension.

_How is dead bodies a good thing?_

Neither of them wills to break the ice. Such a cold, depressing statement obviously throwing both of them from the lighthearted banter a bit before.

He can't possibly imagine any situation or future where dead bodies could be a good thing. But he supposes he doesn't have to imagine, does he?

Mumbo sighs and collapses into a chair. "Can we, can we redo this?"

_I'll feel better if we didn't start off of puke and dead bodies._

Grian gives a small, weak laugh. "What do you propose Mr. Mumbo Jumbo?"

Giving it some thought, he takes a deep breath and looks at Grian. He raises his non-gross hand and waves, "I'm Mumbo and I'm from six years ago."

The smaller boy smiles, "Hello Mumbo, I'm Grian and I'm your neighborly man of the future."

They both stare at each other before the tension evaporates.

"So... Could you--"

There's a flash of pain over the other's features before he sits himself down with a sigh, "Yeah, the apocalypse right. I'm not used to people who aren't aware of what's happening.. What's happened."

Grian's eyes darken as he clasps his hands together, "So... Well I'm going to assume you aren't familiar with a Mr. Xisuma Void?"

Mumbo raises an eyebrow, "No? Should I be-"

The shorter male shushes him with a raised hand, "I wouldn't expect you too. Six years ago, well... Let's just say he wasn't well known until about two and a half years ago."

"Is that when the apocalypse started?"

He tilts his head with pursed lips, "More or so. That's when people started getting sick."

Taking a deep breath, the other speaks slowly and calmly, "People began to... slowly rot away. First mentally. Then physically. No one could figure out what was causing it, but suddenly there was a virus. It was affecting everyone. No matter what age, gender, anything. You could and _would_ get sick. The sick got quarantined and shamed by society. But the virus isn't like previous viruses. Not only are there no visible symptoms for a long time, but unlike the corona virus or e.coli, no one, no _doctor_ could figure out what was causing it. Another pandemic started before anyone could finish resting after the last one."

"That is until Xisuma Void. He came forward and said that the issue was with people's brains. Animals, insects, plants... they weren't affected because of the virus being specific to the human brain. It tears apart specific nerve connections and breaks up memories, completely jumbling the brain. The virus then moves into your bloodstream and slowly eats away at your body until you're just a sack of half rotten flesh. People were confused as to how Xisuma knew. Turns out, he created the thing."

His eyes glisten as he looks away, unable to meet Mumbo's eyes anymore.

"Everyone, Doctors, Judges, every president and queen tried to get a cure or solution from him. He was bribed with money, power, everything someone could want. Xisuma became trending news. He withheld information of how to fix the virus, saying that the virus was going to help the world more than they knew. The areas in quarantine grew bigger and bigger. Until about a year and a half ago, when _it_ happened. The sick, the zombies, the empty husks of what used to be living people broke out of every single quarantine. The numbers finally tipped just perfectly and every city got flooded with actual zombies. In a week, the world was a wasteland and millions were either infected or dead. And as you can see, it hasn't gotten any better."

His mouth tightens, "From what I've gathered, if anyone gets bitten or even touched with skin to skin contact, then you get the infection. It infects your bloodstream and travels to the brain, moving up the body. Once infected, there's no cure. Nobody's heard from Xisuma since the outbreak, so it's most likely that he too, is dead."

_How... lovely._

Mumbo lets out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding and shakily stands up. "Is there a bathroom in this shop?"

Grian hums with a glance around the area, "Looks like there's one over there, I will warn you though, nothing really works anymore."

He nods and slowly stumbles into the dark room. His eyes quickly adjust to the darkness, the moonlight from the windows gone. He feels on the wall until his fingers rub against a light switch, he tries, but a few flicks later and it's still dark. He gives up.

His stomach rolls with anxiety and a dark, sick feeling.

_This is the future... The future of the world is death. I need to get back. I need to... I need to go back. I can't stay here. Not in this future. Not in this wasteland._

He runs the sink and slow dribbles of water pour through. He washes off the puke from his hand quickly before turning it off.

He glances in the direction of the main interior.

_He's nice... And his laugh sounds like bell chimes._

_But I'm not supposed to be here. There's no telling what'll happen. I need to go back._

Mumbo coughs when his heart thuds rapidly. He feels guilty.

Thump. Thump. Thump Thump. Thump Thump Thump.

It's obvious that Grian is alone. And despite his cheery personality so far, there's something... something bad lingering there.

Something that caused that depressing outlook on life. Maybe it was the apocalypse, but his gut is telling him that it isn't just that.

His heart thuds against his ribcage as he bites his lip. He isn't sure of what to do to get back. But he knows he has to get back. He _has_ to.

With one last burning strike of guilt in his chest, he leaves and returns to where the shorter boy is humming to himself.

"Have you ever seen a time machine before?"

Grian glances up and for a moment seems to ponder the question before he responds with, "A real one? I'm going to say no."

Mumbo motions to the door, "Is it safe to...?"

The other blinks in confusion before smiling, "I'm sure we can manage. Just direct me from behind and I'll take care of any zombies we might come across."

"...Okay."

Moving the two chairs out of the way, Grian peeks outside through the window and then twists the doorknob.

Click!

They both freeze.

No groans.

The pair retrace their steps slowly, making their way back to Mumbo's workplace.

The zombies that were there before are gone now.

"Are you okay with going in front? I don't know where we're going exactly," Grian whispers.

Mumbo nods and creaks open the doors before squeezing inside. The smaller boy follows suit, managing to slip inside with significantly more ease. His short hair bounces slightly as he slips inside and Mumbo finds himself staring.

It's weird. He wonders what's caused Grian to survive so long. He wonders how he's so aware of the apocalypse. Has he always been on his own?   
  
The other turns around and Mumbo stares at how his hair frames his face.

Grian waves a hand in front of his face, "Mumbo Jumbo? Mumbo Jumbolio?"

He jumps, "Sorry!"

"What caused you to space out? If you're nervous about going ahead you can always direct me from behind, but I'll warn you that I'm not familiar with this building."

A moment of relief floods him when he realizes Grian didn't notice his staring.

Mumbo coughs into his elbow, "Sorry just got lost in thought. We can keep going."

Blinking in thought, Grian nods and the pair begin to climb the stairs.

The surprise is when they reach the body.

He'd completely forgotten about it.

_Oh my-_

Sickening pain fills his stomach again and he nearly screams.

Nearly.

A hand tightly presses against his mouth. Mumbo glances at Grian. He has a single finger up to his mouth, urging him to be silent.

Heat rushes up to Mumbo's face as he nods. He swallows nervously, Grian's hand soft and warm against his skin and lips.

Grian removes his hand and removes Cub's jacket before covering his body with it. He mouths the words, 'That better?'

He nods.

Taking a deep breath, Mumbo continues to his floor. He leads Grian down the hall, past the open doors and mess.

"I must warn you, my office is a bit of a mess and I swear it wouldn't usually be so mess-" He whispers.

The other rolls his eyes with a smirk before pushing Mumbo aside and entering the office, "I can handle a mess."

Mumbo shuts the door quietly behind them and then walks forward, rubbing his neck.

"I know it's not super fancy, I was planning on polishing it up a bit more after it started to work and well..."

He trails off, noticing Grian's wide eyes and shaking hands. His lips are parted and his expression is flooded with disbelief.

"Grian?"

Said male swallows and steps forward, his hand running along the exterior of the machine. A soft fondness fills his face and Mumbo yet again finds himself staring.

"It looks exactly.. Exactly.... Mumbo.. Did you have anyone that helped you with this?"

Mumbo frowns with confusion, "Some friends and coworkers for a while yes, why?"

Grian gulps and shakes his head, "No reason... was there anything that inspired you to design it this way?" He stares at the top of the machine.

_Why is he asking..?_

He nods, "There was a blueprint my friend Iskall found that inspired us."

"Blueprint..."

The blonde shakily intakes air, "What year..?" He places a hand on his heart.

Mumbo raises an eyebrow, confused, "2027?"

Grian smiles brightly, his eyes shining as he stares at the machine.

"I made that blueprint."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say right now: Evil Xisuma caused the virus, y'know X would never be that cruel


	4. Deals Through Sleep

Mumbo blinks.

He feels his heart hammer in his chest.

_No...no..no.._

_How…?_

_He’s… This is such a coincidence._

Grian turns his head to gaze at Mumbo, “Mumbo…?”

The smile drops.

Mumbo swallows and lets his head drop against the cold quartz. “I wish I could’ve made a better first impression.”

The other laughs, “What are you talking about?”

He glances at Grian, “You unintentionally influenced my entire career and life goals. Why wouldn’t I want, I want a better first impression.”

A pink dusts Grian’s face and he glances at the floor with a smile, “I wouldn’t really say that. That blueprint wasn’t really… it wasn’t much.”

Mumbo raises an eyebrow, “What..? Is that what you think? Why did you throw it away?”

Grian shrugs, “I was stuck in my head with the time machine idea. But I’m not good with any sort of engineering or science so I refocused myself on architecture since I’m actually capable with that.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say you’re completely bad. There were a few errors, but it’s an extremely thought out blueprint.”

That arises a snicker from the other, “Thanks. It’s kind of embarrassing to think that someone actually found that old thing. It’s been so long since then… I guess I forgot about it till I saw the machine.”

Mumbo rubs his arm, “So… does it look how you pictured it?”

A grin overtakes Grian as he walks closer to Mumbo and sits down in front of the machine, leaning against it, “It’s better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

His heart is rapid. He feels as if his face is on fire as he slides down to sit beside Grian.

“That’s-That’s good.”

Grian giggles and pokes Mumbo’s cheek, “You must care an awful lot about this machine to be that embarrassed from me complimenting it.”

He frowns, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t-- I just… I’ve spent a lot of time on it.”

They both are quiet.

_I still can’t believe Grian is the one who made… I guess it’s a small world after all._

The blonde sighs, hand moving slightly to the left when he exhales. Mumbo freezes when he feels a bite of warmth in his hand.

“Why are you still here? In this future? You could’ve gone home after seeing how horrible it is.”

Mumbo drops his head to the side, “The machine won’t work. I tried, but I can’t seem to get it to work again.”

Grian lets out a, “Oh.” His voice sounds quieter.

He looks over and sees the smaller male looking down with a disappointed expression. Mumbo isn’t sure what to make of it.

The two sit quietly until Grian finally continues on, “You said you had friends that worked on this with you right? They might still be alive. Would they be able to help you fix it?”

_Doc or Iskall…?_

_Would Ethos or Beef be alive still? They’d be able to help a little bit._

Mumbo hums in thought, “They might still be alive.. I don’t think I’d be able to find them in this mess though.”

Grian nudges his shoulder, he glances over at him, “I have a deal offer for you Mr Mumbo Jumbo.”

“Oh?”

The blonde stands up and grabs the chair from Mumbo’s desk and steps outside the office, returning with another chair. He sets them around the desk and pats the second chair. 

Scuffling towards the chair, he slides onto the seat awkwardly. “I’m interested…?”

Grian clasps his hand together, “I have a proposal. Since you know nothing about the current world and will probably die on your own--”

“Hey!”

“I’ll protect you and help you find your friends. And in return, when you go back.. You have to promise to prevent this future from happening in your reality.”

_...Prevent it...?_

Mumbo frowns, “But won’t you still be stuck here? It’d just cause a different timeline.”

The other sighs with a sad smile, “Yeah I know. I don’t want you to prevent this for me.” He glances to the side, eyes glossing over with an unreadable emotion, “I just don’t want there to be another timeline… another life where what happened here happens again. So is it a deal?”

He watches the other nervously stare at the desk. Obviously he isn’t 100% confident in this deal.

It makes him smile. He understands being doubtful of yourself more than anyone.

“It’s a deal.”

—

Once back at the coffee shop, the darkness is even more prominent, nighttime covering them thickly.

Mumbo sits down, but Grian does not. He blocks the door with two chairs again before placing chairs and tables in front of the windows as well.

“Do you wan-”

Grian shakes his head, “It’s fine. You should probably sleep. I can keep watch for you.”

He frowns, feeling guilty for making Grian unable to sleep, “It’s okay, I can-”

The other narrows his eyes, “Mumbo, you not only look exhausted, but you travelled to the future, got stuck in said future, nearly died, and saw at least two dead bodies. Sleep. You need it more than me,” He smiles, “I’ll keep watch so we’ll be fine.”

Sighing, he leans back in the chair. Grian stares at him for a moment before snickering, “Are you planning to sleep while sitting?”

Heat burns at his face, “What-What else am I supposed to do?”

The blonde walks over and sets his backpack down, unzipping the bag. He takes out a small thin blanket and hands it to Mumbo. He walks behind the counter and into the back room before reappearing with a couple of aprons.

“I-” Mumbo watches in embarrassed horror as Grian sets the aprons down and begins to create a makeshift bed for Mumbo.

_I- Nonononono- Why is he- I feel like a useless spoon._

Grian takes the blanket from Mumbo’s unmoving hands and lies it on top of the aprons.

“Okay this should work, anything-” He glances up and grins upon seeing Mumbo’s face. “You’re so reactive.”

Mumbo flushes even further, clenching his hands, “Just-Just.. Keep watch. You said you were going to do that right?”

The other smirks, “Okay okay. Sweet dreams Mr Mumbo Jumbo.” He gets up, leaving his backpack on the floor and goes back to blockading the windows.

He watches for a moment before lying down on the makeshift bed.

Exhaustion takes him by the hand and dances with him until he falls asleep.

…

Iskall struggles to light the candles, laughing at himself.

Mumbo fiddles with his tie.

“Dude you know that no one wears suits to parties anymore right?”

Etho walks into the room and shrugs, “Mumbo’s a suit kinda guy though.”

Finally managing to light the candles, Iskall snorts, “True.”

Sitting down beside Mumbo, Etho hollars to Doc, “Doc get in here!”

Beef sips his water, already in his seat. Doc huffs, walking inside with eyebags the size Mount Everest.

Iskall laughs, stepping aside so Doc can stand in front of the cake. Bdubs comments from the seat beside him, “Have I not told you to sleep?”

Doc glares, but smiles nonetheless. Everyone rushes to sing before the candles melt onto the cake.

“Happy birthday! Happy-- FUCK BLOW OUT THE CANDLES!” Iskall and Mumbo panic.

He blows them out and the chaos disperses as everyone gets a slice.

Mumbo laughs from a corner, watching Beef and Etho tackle karaoke. Bdubs walks over, standing beside him.

“So I heard you guys plan to finally put that knowledge to use.”

A small chuckle arises from Mumbo, “Yeah, it’ll definitely be a strange project for all of us.”

Bdubs grins, “Well show the world who’s boss. I do have a small request though,”

“Oh?”

The other rubs his neck, “Heh, yeah, keep an eye on my pesky neighbor okay? Sometimes I think he lives everyday as if he’s preparing for natural disaster.”

Mumbo smiles, “Of course. Hopefully none of us will have to be overworking ourselves on this project.”

Iskall pops up from behind, laughing, “Don’t get your hopes up Mumbo, the first mistake there is, Etho and you will be fretting over the machine like mother hens!”

“NOT TRUE!”

The voices of his friends, their laughter ringing through the air, fade slowly as he regains consciousness.

…

Mumbo blinks, realizing he’s not at Doc’s birthday party from a few years ago.

He’s still where he was when he fell asleep. Stuck. He’s trapped in a place he’s not supposed to be because of his own mess-up of a machine.

His eyes trail over to stare at Grian.

Grian sits on a table, staring through the cracks in the barriers. He’s leaning back on his hands, a knife beside his hand.

_If I’m missing home a day in, I wonder about him.. Does he miss his friends? Did he even have friends before this started?_

It stuns him as he realizes he knows basically nothing about the stranger that’s now supposedly going to keep him alive.

A name and few common interests. That’s about it. He proposes it isn’t absolutely nothing, but he still barely knows this guy. Yet, everytime they converse, Grian acts as if he knows Mumbo and his behaviors by heart.

Grian taps his hand and foot, mindless slight swaying. Mumbo guesses he does it because he can’t sit still.

His eyes watch the slight movements of his sweater and hair. Eyes following every small nudge to the side.

After about five minutes of just looking at Grian, he hears:  
  
“Jeez Mumbo, I know I’m gorgeous, but didn’t your parents ever tell you that staring is rude?”

_I’ve been caught._

He flushes, ducking his head and fiddling with his fingers, “How long did you know?”

Grian snickers, “About a minute? Why, how long were you staring at me Mumbo?” His voice is layered in amusement.

Mumbo swallows down the heat rushing to his face, “I- only a minute! I Just got distracted and I just woke up and-”

“It’s fine you spoon. You got lost in thought, happens to the best of us.”

_Sure, we can call it that._

Sitting up properly, he glances at Grian, who is now turned partially so he can face Mumbo. He laughs awkwardly, “So uh, what now? Should I keep watch so you can sl-”

Grian’s smile falls, “No we should get anything of value from here and leave. We have to find your friends, remember? Not a second to be wasted.”

The shorter male jumps from the table and darts into the backroom.

_That was… A bit weird._

Mumbo frowns, cleaning up his ‘bed’ and going to help Grian. 


	5. Travelling Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before anyone asks: im aware that Grian is 2 years older than Mumbo but i felt weird making there an 8 year gap between them since there's already a 6 year difference technically
> 
> so i tried to sorta compromise

Mumbo walks, trying to keep up with Grian.

"Where are we going?"  
  
Grian stops, "That's up to you. Where do you think your friends would be?"

_That's a good question._

He frowns, "Hmmm, well Doc is big on survival so he'd be somewhere super secure. I'm not sure where Iskall would be."

The blonde places a hand on his hip, "Somewhere secure? I know there's a facility called Area 77 not far from here. I believe it's relatively secure."

Mumbo claps his hands together, "77 is Doc's favorite number. He uses it for everything."

"Then your friend is probably there."

The pair begin to walk through the street, Mumbo blindly following Grian. "Do you know where Area 77 is?"

Grian smirks, "Of course I do. I broke into the place once with two of my college dorm buddies as a joke. Obviously that was when it was abandoned and there was no apocalypse, but it was hilarious. We had just come from a school festival and we looked like hippies with flower crowns and necklaces and stuff." He laughs as he walks, smiling to himself.

Mumbo smiles too, watching Grian go on about how he and his college friends snuck in.

The bell-like sound of Grian's laughter draws him in more than he understands. It's so happy and sweet like honey. He wonders if Grian knows how cute his laugh is.

_Is it bad for me to like his smile this much? It must be right? Nobody likes the smile of someone they barely know. It's hard not to though._

His eyes stare as Grian animatedly finishes his story, "It was some of the weirdest stuff ever, but hey we had fun."

The blonde giggles and glances over at Mumbo before pausing. His smile falls slightly and he rubs his neck, "I kind of just went on a rant about that didn't I? My bad."

He realizes he's still staring in silence and suddenly grabs Grian's shoulder, causing the other male to flinch.

Mumbo pulls his hand back, "It's-It's fine, I liked the story. Sounds like you had fun in college."

Grian blinks, calming, "Yeah, 28' was fun. All of the 2030s have kinda sucked so far."

_Wait... He was in college in 2028?_

Furrowing his brows, he questions, "Wait how old are you?"

The other hums, "I'm 28, why?"

_That's four years older than me... But I'm in the future._

"Huh, you're two years younger than me."

Grian frowns, "No, I'm definitely older than you. I mean just because you have facial hair, doesn't mean you're older."

Mumbo suppresses a snort and smiles, "You're older than me here yes... but technically I'm from six years ago. If my math is right then you're two years younger than me."

"Well I'm still older than you here so shush."

He rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless, "Alright."

—

The silence grows more unbearable as it grows longer and longer.

Apparently neither of them have much to contribute to a conversation. Grian's story was fun earlier, but now he simply pays more mind to where they're going. Mumbo is glad they aren't getting lost, but the silence is slowly driving him mad.

He frowns and decides to try and start up another conversation.

"So what was life like before?"

Grian's voice displays confusion, "Before?"

Mumbo nods, "Like before I showed up. Before when the apocalypse was new. I mean you weren't quarantined, so I guess you lived life pretty normally till the outbreak?"

The other is silent, beginning to walk faster.

The sudden change in pace catches him off guard and he struggles to keep up.

"Grian?"

Said male huffs, "So, what's your favorite thing about time travel?"  
  


_That's not a response to what I said... Is he trying to change the topic? Why?_

Curiosity strikes him as he watches Grian avoid looking at him.

Mumbo clears his throat, "Probably when it works? Anyways, back to the apocalypse, you didn't answer. What was it like? I mean I am starting to get a bit more accustomed to my surroundings, but you've been in the apocalypse for almost a year and a half right? So what's it like?"

Grian smiles tightly, "Boring, now how's the past? You said you were building it with your friends, what are they like?"

Frustration hits his chest and he clenches his fists at yet another attempt from Grian to change the topic.

However, he notices the way Grian's eyes are darker and the way his teeth dig into his lip, and every part of Mumbo decides against pushing even more.

Sighing, he shrugs, "Well Doc is a bit of a sleepless maniac, but he's extremely talented. Iskall is laughing more than talking, but he keeps everyone in the office happy despite so many failures on our projects. I'm not as close with Etho, Beef, and Zedaph, but they're creations are definitely well-done."

Grian lets out a breathless laugh, "Sounds like there's quite a few talented geniuses in your friend circle."

Mumbo chuckles, "Yeah, there are. What about you? What are your friends like?"

The other's face darkens and he swallows, "Oh... I don't really..." He pauses, "Have any friends. There was Ren and Impulse from college, but we don't really speak anymore."

"Oh, that su-"

The blonde suddenly smiles, a fake one. It's twisted and pained in ways that make it much more shabby compared to the bright and adorable smile from earlier. "Any fun work stories?"

He gulps, realizing that he pushed too far.

"Uh..."

—

Doc swallows.

_What just happened?_

He walks over to the machine and peeks into the window on the machine's door.

Mumbo is gone.

Panic overtakes him and he dashes into the hallway.

"Iskall!"

Said male pops his head from out into the hallway, "What's up Doc?"

Taking a deep breath, he mutters, "Mumbo vanished."

Iskall's eyes widen and he walks with Doc back into Mumbo's office.

The mustached man is nowhere to be found.

Fear covers Iskall's voice, "What the heck happened? Someone can't just... vanish."

Doc shakes his head, "Apparently you can." He crosses his arms, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat.

"We were arguing and suddenly he fell into his machine and it said 'Activation Successful.'"

The other freezes and stares at Doc, "Dude you know what that means, don't you?"

_What..?_

"No?"

Iskall stares at him, "It means that Mumbo's machine worked. He's not here because he's in the future."

_Shit._


	6. Tiresome Fires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry things are gonna start heating up a bit more in the next chapter OWO

Grian trails ahead, looking around for firewood.

They’d found a place to set up camp for the night and as per usual, Mumbo feels useless as Grian does everything.

Maybe being preoccupied with a time machine for the past few years wasn’t the most ace idea.

He straightens up, thinking about how he’ll be in charge of keeping watch this time. His mind reminds him of how badly he’d desire a cup of tea.

_I guess even the simple things are gone with the apocalypse huh? How has Grian managed to keep his spirits up for so long?_

There’s so much he wants to ask, but if anything it’s become abundantly clear that the other man doesn’t want to speak a word. Trust. That’s something one shouldn’t expect to show up when they met each other a day ago.

_I guess it won’t matter. Once I get back to my time, Grian and I won’t know each other._

The thought makes his heart strain in a way he can’t quite place. 

So far the stranger has made this grim future just a bit more manageable.

Grian reappears with sticks and branches in one arm; dandelions, clovers, and assortments of other plants are in his other arm.

“Do you know how to handle a fire?”

Mumbo feels himself grow warm as he nervously smiles, “...Not really?”

The blonde rolls his eyes, “I don’t even know why I ask.”

_I GET IT I’M A SPOON_

He huffs, “To be fair, I’ve spent the past four years on a time machine.”

Grian smirks, laying the plants down on the thin blanket from his backpack before piling the wood together.

“Excuses, Excuses.”

Watching as Grian takes out a small red lighter from his backpack, Mumbo realizes that Grian is humming. It’s a simple tune, but it enraptures him without trying.

The shorter male strikes the lighter onto the pile, a small fire starting. He smiles a small smile to himself, humming still.

_Does he realize he’s humming?_

Grian fans the flames, continuing his little tune, “Fire fire... more fire..”

Mumbo smiles, content to just watch Grian begin cooking the plants over the fire as he hums and sings under his breath.

_He’s got to have no idea he’s doing it. I should probably say something.. But what if me saying something causes him to stop doing it?_

Without realizing it, Mumbo hums along with Grian’s tune, distracted by the back and forth in his head. He leans on his hands, watching the blonde carefully cook the dandelions, clovers, etc.

After about a minute, Grian pauses, looking over at Mumbo, “I don’t know if you noticed but you’re humming.”

Mumbo’s eyes widen.

_Huh? Wait, was I humming before Grian was? After? I didn’t even notice.._

He clears his throat, face reddening, “How long?”

The other shrugs, “About a minute? Do you usually hum when you get lost in thought?”

“I don’t know. Though, your tune _was_ pretty lovely.”

Grian blinks, “What?”

Mumbo smiles awkwardly, “You were humming too, for at least five minutes. Something about fire.”

The blonde’s face goes pink and he ducks his head, coughing into his elbow.

“My bad, it’s a habit.”

He feels himself smile, his heart beating fondly in his chest. Some habits are bad, but he wouldn’t consider Grian’s little habit bad in the slightest.

His eyes dart to the ground, “It’s fine, I liked it.”

More coughing.

They sit in awkward, embarrassed silence. Neither male is quite able to say anything.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Finally, Grian finishes with his plants, nudging Mumbo. “Here, they aren’t five stars, but they taste pretty okay.”

Mumbo furrows his eyebrows, staring at the dandelion. He grabs it between his fingers, lifting it to his mouth.

_I feel like I might regret this…_

_Are dandelions even safe to eat?_

His stomach growls and he frowns.

Giving in, he opens his mouth and bites. Chewing slowly, he finds himself not hating the taste. It reminded him of arugula. Being warmed from the fire made it crunchy as well.

“I don’t… hate it.”

Grian snickers, “Told you!” He bites into his own dandelions and clovers.

The two then eat away at the different kinds of edible plants, Grian had gathered.

Mumbo finishes before Grian does.

However, a few plants don’t fill him. His stomach growls against his control and Grian glances at him. He reaches his hand out, handing him the last few bits of dinner.

“Here, I’m full anyways.”

He looks over the short, skinny male and narrows his eyes, “Are you sure?”

Grian raises an eyebrow, “Of course. Go ahead.”

Sighing, he takes the offer and swallows down the plants. He wipes his hands on his jacket, standing up.

The blonde stands himself.

A yawn escapes from Mumbo’s mouth, but he smiles despite it. “I’ll keep watch this time, sleep well.”

“Funny,” Grian sets the blanket down near the fire before sitting down on the ground beside the opposite side of the fire. “Sleep well yourself.”

Mumbo crosses his arms, “But you kept watch last night?”

“Yes and you’re still much more tired than I am. So goodnight.”

_How is he not tired?_

_Maybe he’ll let me keep watch tomorrow._

Giving up on arguing, Mumbo settles onto the blanket. He lies on his back, staring at the starry sky.

After a bit, he hears Grian begin to hum again. A different tune this time.

Whether on purpose or not, most likely not, Mumbo smiles. The little humming softens his mind, making his eyes slowly close.

…

“Mumbo, how many times do I have to tell you. It’s not good of you to get yourself so messy.”

His mother grabs a rag, wetting the tip and wipes at the redstone powder on his suit jacket.

He frowns, “But Mum-”

She glares at him.

“Sorry. Mother, it can’t be avoided when I’m-” He freezes.

Her fingers caress his cheek, her touch cold and obdurate. She stares at him in a pitiful disappointment. Keeping her hand on his cheek for a moment longer, she lets go and places the rag into the sink.

Mother gives a tight-lipped smile, fake and polite. “Dear, I understand you like to play, but you’re going to be twelve soon and your father and I are expecting you to become more proper and respectable.”

Mumbo nods, lowering his head.

He wants to scream. To tell her that he isn’t playing, he’s learning. That he’s making circuits and contraptions. But his father said he’s supposed to be a CEO. And when he’s a CEO, he won’t have time to ‘play.’

His mother steps towards the door, “Pearl, watch him. Make sure he gets some fresh clean clothes.”

With that, she leaves. She shuts the door behind her.

Pearl walks outside the bathroom and returns with a clean suit.

Mumbo sits down on the floor, hugging his knees, “I don’t want to wear a stupid suit Pearl.”

She smiles, “I know, but your mother wants it. On the bright side, both your parents will be gone this weekend for work.”

He glances at her, “Really?”

“Mhm. We can build that automatic bobble head thing you mentioned.”

His eyes light up and he grins, grabbing the suit. “Okay!”

Just a few more days till the weekend.

…

Mumbo sits up, hugging himself.

_Dear… I haven’t thought about Mother or Father in at least a year…_

Heaving out a sigh, he lets his head fall into his hands.

_At least they’re probably dead in this future._

_I can’t believe I’m actually_ glad _about that._

Grian’s voice interrupts his darkening thoughts, “Mumbo? Bad dream?”

He nods, mumbling, “Something like that.”

The other rubs circles onto his back, “Well if you feel rested, then we should probably get going.”

Mumbo takes a deep breath, “Okay let’s go.”


	7. Arguments of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter thursday morning instead of thursday night (tho its 2 am or so for me so ig this isnt really morning)
> 
> either way i decided to post this to distract me as i try to write the rest of the first chapter for a different long hermitcraft fic i have in the works ;)
> 
> its gonna be dark as well and bdoc but i have it partially planned and ive written almost all of chapter one so expect that in a few weeks or so most likely
> 
> also be aware that both of them are very tired and mean next to nothing of what they are saying

“That’s what I’m saying! I don’t get what’s wrong with a little pranking!”

Netty smiles, “You two are going to be the end of all of us, I swear.”

Taurtis snickers, collapsing onto the couch. Grian skitters away, “Taurtis! Social distancing!”

The other grins with a laugh, “I don’t see what’s so wrong, aren’t all the symptoms physical first?”

Dom throws a pillow at him, "That's not the point."

Taurtis squawks, “Rude!”

Grian chuckles, “But Dom has a point, that X guy still hasn’t told anyone anything. We have no clue if a cure will be made anytime soon. Better safe than sorry.”

Netty nods with a small smile, “It’s bad enough Tomohawk is in the quarantine zones now, we don’t want to wish that on anymore people.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I need to be more careful.” Taurtis flops onto his side, “Danger is my middle name though.”

He snickers, “Yeah right. More like chicken.”

Taurtis glares at Grian, “Says the one with the pet bird!”

Grian huffs, “He has a name y’know! PB deserves respect, you peabrain.”

They bicker back and forth, Dom watching in amusement.

Netty yells atop their bickering, “GUYS!”

Everyone goes silent as she points at the tv, turning up the volume.

_“No one is safe.”_

His blood runs cold.

_“The city’s quarantine zone has been broken, the sick are now leaving.”_

They all look at each other.

It moves to a reporter outside the quarantine zone.

_“It appears that the sick have grown worse. They are attacking people for unknown reasons and- SHIT ROBERT RUN!”_

The camera becomes shaky as the people from the quarantine zone slowly approach them.

If Grian didn’t know about the current pandemic, he wouldn’t have been able to tell that those _things_ used to be people.

“They look like _zombies_.” Taurtis mutters.

It flashes back to the news studio, _“We recommend all civilians to lock up and secure their homes or current locations. There is no telling what will happen now.”_

Dom grabs the remote and turns the tv off.

Grian doesn’t feel warm and happy anymore. He’s scared. _Terrified._

_Does that mean that Tomohawk…._

_My neighbor was quarantined but…_

He swallows, “This… It feels like a weird dream you’d have after playing video games all night.”

Netty sighs, “Mhm… We should take that advice.”

Grian nods, standing up and locking the door to his apartment.

_What will happen now?_

…

Grian shakes his head, avoiding thinking about that day any longer.

He glances behind him, seeing Mumbo turn with a frown in his sleep.

_I guess neither of us seem to be having good thoughts tonight._

—

Mumbo sighs, feeling awkward and useless as they simply walk in silence.

“Grian-”

Said male shushes him.

“Grian--”

More shushing.

He huffs.

“There aren’t any zombies.”

Grian whispers, “We can’t take any chances, We’re nearing hiking trails and little shops since there’s a dead campsite near here, so there may be more zombies in those areas.”

Mumbo purses his lips, “But-”

“QUIET!”

Grian spins on his heel and covers Mumbo’s mouth with a hand.

There’s a crunch of branches.

_Crap._

Then silence.

Mumbo sighs in relief and removes Grian’s hand, “See--”

Groaning.

Grian glares at him.

Groans echo through the scrawny emerald trees. Before he can even intake a single breath, the groaning grows loud and dense.

He can’t hear any area around him without the groaning.

His eyes widen as he looks to Grian. Said male bites his lip and takes out his knife.

Zombies emerge from the forest greenery.

They look as dead and ill as last time.

Grian grabs Mumbo’s wrist tightly.

“Run!”

Mumbo feels the familiar warmth return and calm him. It stabilizes his heart beat, making him feel capable again. As they run faster and faster, the flames surrounding his lungs grow like a raging fire.

Zombies fill the space around them and when a crowd thicken in around them, closing the way they were running, they stop. 

They both stare at the crowd of rotten creatures all around them. Groans echo through his head as he tries to focus on an out.

Whispering quietly this time, he crafts a decent plan as the zombies slowly near, “You said that there’s a campsite nearby?”

The other nods, “It’s to our current northwest.” He whispers.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Mumbo grasps at the ground below him and tightly pulls a stick into his free hand.

“Here’s the plan. I’ll snap this stick in half and then we’ll leave towards that campsite. Can you kill the zombies blocking our path there?”

Grian smirks, “Definitely.”

“Good. 3… 2… 1… go!” He whispers.

With his free hand he snaps the stick in half loudly and tosses it behind him. Grian pulls him along, slicing the head of the two zombies, directly in front of them, clean off.

The heads drop and roll to the side. Grian kicks a head with his shoe behind them and then takes off towards the campsite.

The groans of the zombies are loud from behind them, fear pulses through his veins as he vividly remembers his previous experience with the loud, shivering groans. As they speed up, the zombie groans grow quieter.

They both run, Grian’s hand still wound around Mumbo’s wrist. Mumbo feels a weird desire to wrap his free hand around Grian’s hand and lock fingers.

_Ignore bad ideas ignore bad ideas-_

A rusted fence comes into eyesight, and Mumbo grins.

They rush towards the fence. When they reach it, Grian lets go of Mumbo’s wrist and he frowns as the warmth leaves.

The fence is old and the holes between the thin metal chains are big and misshapen.

Grian cuts at a particularly large gap in the fence with his knife and after a long moment, he tucks his knife away at his belt. He grabs at the noodle thick fence and heaves, pulling at the metal he cut at. He pulls, grunting. Mumbo notices that sharp edges of the fence tear at his skin when crimson blood drips down his hands. With a sharp creak, Grian lets go.

“Why didn’t we just climb over?”

The blonde sighs, “Too much noise and I have no clue if the fence would even hold. Plus you probably would’ve fallen. The fence is weak and already half broken, so it’s easier to just widen the gap a bit. Zombies are too brain dead to crawl in themselves.”

Ignoring the jab at his pride, Mumbo waits for Grian to crawl inside the campsite, before he follows. He bends over, barely fitting through the gap, the sharp edges of the fence cut at his suit jacket.

The sounds are loud enough for him to be terrified. Grian pulls him through and glances around. 

“No zombies in sight.”

Mumbo exhales in relief, “If that’s the case, can I clean up your hands?”

Grian’s eyes widen and he glances at his hands, “Oh uh… sure I guess.”

The two settle down at a forgotten fire and tent.

Searching through the backpack, Mumbo finds two bandaids. He pours small drops of water on either hand, letting the water and blood clear out so he can stick the bandaids on the main cuts. His eyes spot a burn scar on Grian’s right wrist.

Before he can ask about it, Grian jolts his hands from Mumbo’s grasp.

“I hope you learned.”

Mumbo raises an eyebrow, “What?”

Grian huffs, “You need to be quieter and listen to me. Those zombies appeared because you were being too loud and weren’t trying to even _walk_ quietly.”

He feels himself freeze, “Are you saying that those zombies were my fault?”

“Yes…? They weren't _my_ fault.”

His hands shake, “Maybe, but I’m the one who got us out of there.”

The blonde rolls his eyes, “You would have died if I hadn’t killed those two zombies.”

_Where is this coming from? I was helpful, I tried my best yet-_

Gritting his teeth, he crosses his arms, “At least I didn’t cut my hands and not even realize it.”

The other pauses. Then he whispers darkly, “At least I didn’t get stuck in the future.”

The words are an icy dagger that cuts deep into his chest. He feels the blood of his pride bleed from the word wound.

“... _What.”_ The inside of his mouth tastes like dirt. “Maybe I got stuck in the future, but at least I didn’t give up at the first sign of struggle.”

Grian’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare as he growls, “You would be _dead_ without me.”

Mumbo narrows his eyes, voice raising volume slightly, “If I was dead I wouldn’t have to be stuck with such a shut off tosser.”

Both of their voices begin to raise.

The blonde’s hands tighten into fists as his face scrunches up angrily, “Maybe I should have let you die then, ungrateful prat.”

Scoffing, he glares, “Grateful? For yelling at me just because you’re tired and stuck up?”

“The only thing I’m tired of is your uselessness.”

“Oh so was my plan back there useless then?” His tone grows sarcastic, “Sorry I didn’t realize you were perfect.”

“If you’re going to scream at me when I’m the one who’s kept you alive this long, then just go home.”

The word ‘home’ stabs him and he feels his eyes sting as hot acid threatens to spill.

“My home was six years ago!” He flares, “I can’t go home!”

Grian doesn’t respond. Eyes wide.

Mumbo chokes as he blinks back tears, refusing to cry, “If anyone should be going home, it’s you.”

The other is silent. He lowers his head.

Silence.

Then a dark, icy cold voice comes from him.

“This _is_ my home.”

Mumbo’s eyes widen and he bites at his lip, tightly gripping his pants.

Grian glances up, eyes beginning to spill as well, “At least you have a fucking home to go back to! The only thing I have to go back to is a burned down, zombie infested shithole! I might be harsh, but that’s because THIS IS THE REALITY!”

Silence.

The blonde sighs, “This is how things are and you have to accept both that and my rules because my rules have kept me alive this long.”

Neither of them move or speak after that for a while.

_I feel guilty._

He knows that this is a sick future and he’s lucky that he has a place to return to. That this doesn’t have to be _his_ future. But he’s so tired and sad and scared. He just wants to return to his simple life and his friends.

However Grian doesn’t have that. He’s way more tired, and probably way more sad and scared. But he doesn’t have a simple life to return to. He just has his current one.

“Listen Grian-”

Said male interrupts, his voice dead and dry.

“It’s late already. You sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

Grian stands up and walks away towards the other side of the camp.

_I messed up, didn’t I?_


	8. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter might be a few days late
> 
> currently on the first few INTENSE chapters at the point im at (i write a few chapters ahead) and itll take a hot second to get a solid draft and then edit said draft
> 
> but for now have this angst and next chapter will be just as angsty whenever it comes

Mumbo frowns. Grian hasn’t said a word at all. He’s barely even managed to get Grian to _look_ at him.

_How am I supposed to make him realize I’m sorry when he won’t even listen!?_

They left the campsite in the morning and are now on a small road. There’s nothing on either side, just hills, trees, and more nothing.

Every time Mumbo tries to walk beside Grian and talk to him, Grian walks further ahead saying he’s ‘scouting out the surroundings.’

Slowly, he finds himself becoming more and more anxious.

He dashes forward and opens his mouth, but Grian moves forward again. Mumbo grabs his wrist.

_Shit._

Grian flinches, ripping his wrist from Mumbo’s grasp.

“What.”

Mumbo gulps, realizing his mistake.

_At least I have his attention now._

He frowns, “Listen Grian, I’m sorry about the things I said yesterday and I-”

The blonde turns around and begins walking forward again.

_Wait what?_

Barely managing to keep up, he rushes to follow Grian. He reaches out, but stops. Resisting the urge to grab his shoulder, he lowers his hand.

“Like I said, I regret what I said and I was hoping we could talk about last n-”

Grian spins on his heel in such a quick movement that Mumbo stumbles backwards a bit.

With the same dead and emotionless expression he’s had since the night before, he whispers, “We both said things that were uncalled for. Let’s just move past it and keep going.”

The blonde then turns around again and keeps walking.

_I have a feeling something is definitely still up._

He walks beside Grian, “But I think if we could talk-”

“Mumbo, we have to get to your friends so you can go back in time, remember?”

A frustration bites at his ankles as he continues to follow Grian.

_Why can’t he just pause?_

Biting his lip, he feels himself grow slightly angry. He’s apologized, he’s trying to make things better. And Grian? He’s making half-apologies that don’t even admit he messed up too.

Mumbo’s hands tighten into fists at his side as he stops walking.

Grian continues on, but stops after a while. He turns around and walks closer, “Why are you stopping?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scrunches up his face, “Grian you can’t just avoid talking about what happened-”

The blonde glares, “I’m not avoiding anything, I’m trying to get you home. Isn’t that what you want? You want to go home, so I’m trying to get you home. Our relationship doesn’t matter.”

The tone of his voice, the utter hurt and anger hidden under layers and layers of sharp rock, it all stabs him in the gut. He can almost imagine blood trickling from where the pain begins to eat him up from the inside out.

But it’s not as easy as a physical wound. It’s nothing physical at all.

He doesn’t have a response. Not a good or logical one at least.

Grian keeps walking.

Mumbo feels anger at both himself _and_ Grian.

_‘Our relationship doesn’t matter.’_

Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe he shouldn’t be so focused on whether he and Grian are bonding. In the end, he won’t be in this reality for long. It’s not like he plans on _staying_ in the future.

Yet a part of him, the part that is currently tightened and screaming in pain, wants Grian to like him. Wants to have some form of friendship with this messy blonde while he _is_ in the future.

So even if it might be crazy, he catches up to Grian and opens his mouth, about to _try_ because he believes, _knows_ , that Grian also wants more than a rocky what if.

But then he hears groans, and he bumps into the shorter boy’s head.

He blinks, glancing around and realizing why Grian stopped.

Zombies. More Zombies.

_They really can’t leave us alone, can they?_

“What should we do?” He whispers.

Grian takes out his knife, gripping it tightly and continuing to walk forward despite the group of zombies loosely spread around the area in front of them. Mumbo spots a small gas station and realizes that they’re probably from there.

Mumbo grabs Grian’s arm out of instinct, but lets go when Grian flinches.

“We shouldn’t just go straight into the area. We should plan out what to do, maybe we can find a way arou-” He stops talking when he notices that Grian isn’t listening.

The shorter male simply stomps into the mess of zombies.

Any plan that had been forming in Mumbo’s head goes to absolute shit when he sees the blonde step forward.

There’s something about the male’s presence...about the way he holds himself that just seems to snap. It’s as if he’s a violin and a string snapped.

Mumbo watches in utter confusion as Grian stands still.

In the middle of the zombies. He stands still. And then he speaks, rather loudly in fact:

“If you’re scared, then just stand behind me.”

The tone of his voice sends a chill down Mumbo’s spine.

_He doesn’t sound anything like the guy I’ve known thus far..._

Zombies from all around begin to stumble towards Grian. He snickers quietly to himself and cuts through each one that comes near him. Guts fly from the lifeless bodies and fall to the ground.

Mumbo backs up, gulping at the insides rolling around him. Thick blood spews from the zombies.

Grian cuts through rapidly, full of energy that he uses to slice through the zombies.

After about a minute and a half of this though, Mumbo notices the small blonde begin to slice slightly slower.

It takes a good moment of him watching Grian move before a realization forms in his head.

_Is he getting worn out? He is killing a lot of them..._

Mumbo begins to rush to think of something to distract the zombies before something bad happens. His eyes zoom around, looking for something that’ll create a big sound. Sticks... no that barely did the trick last time.

He spots something else.

An advertisement sign.

_Bingo_.

Tiptoeing towards the sign, he takes his eyes off Grian temporarily, instead using his distraction to grab the sign tightly in his hands.

Raising it above his head, he throws it at a street light with every bit of muscle he has.

It bangs against the metal, making a loud-ear killing screech.

All the zombies begin to rush towards the sound.

Grian stares wide-eyed at Mumbo.

Said male sprints towards Grian, gripping his sleeve instead of his hand. He leads the other away from the zombies.

“That was a dumb thing to do. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

The blonde doesn’t say anything, being led by his sleeve.

Air whips past them and warmth tingles in his stomach despite not even touching Grian’s actual skin. He pretends his stomach isn’t doing a back flip when Grian grabs Mumbo’s wrist while they run, letting himself be dragged.

Once they are a good way away from the gas station, Mumbo stops running and let’s go of Grian’s arm.

Neither of them speaks.

Until he hears Grian’s voice, quiet and small:

“That’s Area 77, over there.”

Mumbo glances up and sees in the distance a massive compound.

_We’re here._


	9. Area 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late !!
> 
> im struggling w chapters 11 and 12 T^T

Grian peeks around the corner at the empty street. Zombies are wandering around. He counts at least 10.

Taurtis leans over his head, “How many are there?”

“Don’t lean over me!”

The other frowns and shoves at Grian’s head, “Grow taller and then we’ll talk.”

Grian smacks his face, “Not the time! Which store is the one you were talking about?”

Taurtis glances around the corner, “The one next to the massive office building.”

He grips at the baseball bat in his hands, “Are we gonna just go in?”

The shorter male scrunches up his face in thought, “I guess we can… It’d be nice if we could get some sort of distraction.” He takes another peek, trying to find some sort of thing to use to make a big… _something_.

The universe seems to be in their favor.

A man walks out into the street, leaving the massive office building. Grian can’t make out much details about him besides dark hair and clothes. Another male follows him out, a brown haired male shaking frantically.

The male closer to the door whisper shouts and Grian barely catches it:

“What are you doing?!”

The zombies subtly begin to focus on the pair as the other male responds.

“What else are we supposed to do now?”

Grian nudges Taurtis, “We can go now, those guys are gaining the zombies attention.” He whispers.

Taurtis frowns, “Shouldn’t we try to help them? What if they get hurt?”

He shakes his head, “I want to help too, but we probably won’t get a better chance than this. They’ve managed to survive this long, I’m sure they’re plenty capable.”

Not giving him a chance to respond to that, he grabs Taurtis’s wrist and turns the corner.

Taking a small glimpse at the two men arguing, he notices a third man watching with a frown from the entry to the large office building.

_That place doesn’t seem very secure…_

He shakes his head and continues to lead Taurtis and himself around the mob of zombies quietly. They turn into a new street right as he hears a loud:  
  
“MUMBO!”

Grian doesn’t think much of it.

…

He blinks, glancing up at Mumbo.

_That was…_

_I saw him… I saw… future him._

Mumbo takes long strides towards the large domain of Area 77. Grian watches him from slightly behind.

_What if…_

_No, I shouldn’t think that way._

—

Mumbo sighs, rubbing his temples. He can’t see any sort of doorbell or entry. His eyes dot over to Grian.

Ever since the zombie incident, Grian has been silent. His head is lowered slightly as he stares at the large walls.

_I want to talk but… We need to focus on getting inside first._

There’s not any front door, just an entrance gate into a large airway with different hangers.

Massive runways are scattered about.

The pair step into the empty airfield in an awkward and tense silence.

_All the hangers are closed, no zombies though. It seems secure and it’s gotta be lived in because how else would there be no zombies?_

_Please Doc, please be here._

A sudden pain strikes his chest and he coughs a few times, gripping his arm. Grian turns slightly to look at him. Mumbo can barely breathe, fire scorching down his throat as his chest curls into a painful ball.

Then it’s all gone. The pain lasted barely twenty seconds.

He walks around nervously, “How do you suppose we get in?”

Grian shrugs. His eyes are narrowed as he stares.

Mumbo remembers a previous conversation.

_Didn’t he sneak in here?_

Taking a few strides towards the small blonde, he reaches out for his shoulder, stopping himself. He clears his throat. Grian doesn’t turn around, he only moves his head upwards just a bit.

The movement helps him know that Grian is aware of his presence.

“You said you snuck in here before? With your college friends?” His hand hovers above Grian’s shoulder. “How’d you sneak in?”

The other’s head tilts slightly and Mumbo catches his eyes staring at Mumbo’s hand.

“I…” He swallows, “How’d we sneak in?”

Mumbo nods, “Yeah.”

_Will he be okay with me touching him… I really want to but…_

_I don’t want to hurt him… To make him unhappy._

His heart hammers in his chest and he finally gives in. He lowers his hand and softly touches Grian’s shoulder.

The smaller male jumps, but doesn’t shove his hand away. He turns slightly to look at Mumbo.

His eyes are filled with confusion and emotions Mumbo can’t really name.

Taking a deep breath, Grian refocuses on Mumbo instead of his hand.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to sneak in? We’re trying to gain their trust right.”

Mumbo blinks, “That’s… true… but if Doc _is_ here, he should recognize me, right?”

Something unreadable flashes in the blonde’s eyes.

He pauses, “Mumbo, neither of us knows what happened to you in this future. We also don’t know if Doc is here. I don’t think it’s wise to just rush in.”

_But…_

Confusion swirls in his chest. Grian is sometimes thinking things through, but then he also jumps straight in without a plan. It’s like… at that one moment.

Mumbo frowns.

_It’s like he didn’t even realize or process that he was being reckless earlier…_

“What else are we supposed to do then?”

Grian stands in thought for a moment, “We could always try… knocking?”

The taller male does a double take, his hand slipping off Grian’s shoulder. The blonde watches his hand drop to his side.

“On the hanger doors?”

The other shrugs, “It’s my only idea.”

Mumbo sighs, “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

The pair approach the hanger doors. They’re massive, scaling up a gigantic cliff. Usually, Mumbo feels tall and big compared to other things, but in this case he feels like a small mouse.

_This is a weird change._

They both glance at each other and eventually Grian steps forward. He grabs a small rock and raises it to the hanger door.

Neither of them are ready to risk it. They need to make a lot of noise, but zombies are attracted to just that.

After a long silence and unsure worry, Grian begrudgingly bangs against the hanger door with the rock. A loud screech echoes through the empty airfields. It sounds like a broken record and makes Mumbo shiver.

However, true _fear_ doesn’t fill him until he hears loud groaning.

_Shit._

Thundering grumbles come from the darkness they entered from.

Grian’s eyes are wide and terrified too as he links eye contact with Mumbo.

_We’re screwed._

All three sides are surrounded by trees and he hears loud echoing groans everywhere. They can’t escape the zombies.

Mumbo moves towards Grian, he wants to protect him this time. He wants to-

Grian shoves Mumbo behind him and grabs his knife. His hands shake.

_There’s no way we can take this many zombies._

There’s a long squeak that causes them both to turn their heads around. The hanger doors are slightly open and a tall blonde girl stands there with an angry frown.

“Get in here!”

Before either of them can respond, Grian grabs Mumbo’s wrist and darts inside.

The girl shoves the hanger doors closed and drags a large empty bookshelf in front of them.

She releases a long exhale.

Then her eyes are on them, “What are you lunatics thinking?!”

Grian and Mumbo glance at each other.

Mumbo opens his mouth to respond, but then he hears a familiar German accent.

“False, calm down. We need to focus on the zombies.”

_I know that voice… Doc… He’s here… Doc…_

_He’s alive._

Blinking back the water threatening to form in his eyes, he spins on his heel and sees…

Doc.

But he notices a million changes.

His hair is even messier than he’s used to, but that is the smallest change.

The amount of changes suddenly clog in his throat and he finds himself holding his breath.

The thing that his eyes draw to the most is his right _arm._

Doc has a gray, slim metal arm. His fingers are slightly larger and way less _human._ The metal in Doc only grows as Mumbo looks him over. The left side of his face is completely metal, alongside a bright red prosthetic eye. It creeps down his neck as well. A thin scar runs over the right side of his lips.

_What… happened… why is he… he… what… I thought…_

Panic and fear and anxiety and worry and confusion shoves itself down his throat. His muscles tighten as he croaks out, “Doc…?”

Said male’s right eye is wide for just a moment as he stares at Mumbo. Then his eyes are narrowing into a glare as his hands tighten into rough fists.

_“Who are you.”_

It’s not a question, but more of an accusation.

_What did I- Did I hurt him? Did I do something… but I would never… but…_

The water in his eyes overflows as he falls to his knees. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

He doesn’t have a clue what happened that resulted in this but it makes him want to cry and scream and choke and die and hug Doc and slap Doc and… he’s mainly just _scared._

Grian rushes over to him and grasps his shoulder. The warmth fills him and keeps him a bit more aware.

Mumbo focuses on the warmth, gripping the rope above a pit of snakes.

He hears the blonde’s voice.

“It’s a lot to explain, but we need your help. It’s of critical importance. You know him right? He might not look how you remember last, but he’s your friend, Mumbo.”

Said male places his hand on Grian’s hand. Grian stops talking.

But yet again, he doesn’t move away.

_Progress._

He swallows down the anxiety and takes a deep breath. He stares into Doc’s accusing eyes.

“I’m from 6 years ago. My time machine _worked_ , but it isn’t working here and I need your help to fix it to go back. Please, Doc. I don’t know what I did to you these past few years, but that isn’t me. I’m a different Mumbo.”

Mumbo whispers, “Please help me.”

Doc stares. His glare falls slightly and his lip quivers.

The blonde girl- False- stands silently in front of the hanger doors. A third person, a brown haired guy with a cat at his feet must’ve entered the room sometime during the explanation, because now Mumbo notices him standing beside False.

**“No.”**

Doc’s voice bounces off the hanger walls.

“I don’t believe you.”

Mumbo’s eyes widen and he feels the hot tear trails on his face start to become wet again as more hot, sloppy tears fall.

“What?” He rasps out.

The male in front of him, the friend and coworker he’s been close with for _years_ , steps forward. He grabs a long blade on his belt and grips it in his hand.

Slowly, he swings it around and holds the tip right in front of Mumbo’s neck.

“You died a year ago.”


	10. The Issue of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up !! the next chapter will most likely be 2 weeks wait instead of 1 week wait as im having a lot of slow and trouble writing ch 12 and 13 (i write a chapter or two ahead and im already falling behind due to hitting the "hard to write" section of chapters so thats why itll be an extra week
> 
> other than that enjoy this chapter ^^;

Grian freezes.

_I was… Right…_

The memory of the two men and the zombies his brain settled on earlier reappears in his mind. The dark tall figure… the name…

He chose not to help them.

_It’s my fault that this timeline’s Mumbo is dead. I was selfish… I risked his life earlier… Am I even capable of protecting Mumbo? We made a deal… but…_

_Maybe he deserves someone better._

Noticing shaking under his hand, he watches Mumbo fall onto his hands. It makes his chest tighten and his heart falls when the tall man starts to shakily _beg_.

“Please…”

Doc’s sword is lowered slightly, yet still far too close to Mumbo’s neck.

Grian instinctively has his hand hovered over his knife in case of something.

_Even if Mumbo deserves someone better… I still want to try and protect him._

The thought makes him confused. He doesn’t know why he cares so much about Mumbo’s safety. Obviously he wants the man to get back to the past and prevent another Grian from having to… _experience_ the harsh realities of the apocalypse. But a small part of him can’t but help wonder if there’s more to it.

_I’m being delusional… I’m just reacting weird because it’s been a long time since I’ve even spoken to another human being._

Doc’s frown tightens as he furrows his eyebrows in a familiar emotion.

_Guilt._

The emotion is quickly replaced by something personal and hard to decode. Doc’s eyes soften ever so slightly and he drops his sword.

It clangs against the ground with a loud clack and scratch of metal hitting stone.

Mumbo flinches and opens his eyes, tears still streaming from them. He glances at the sword, lying on the ground. His shaking form collapses as he falls to the ground. Grian wraps his arms around his torso and pulls him up.

The taller male glances at him. Then his eyes move back to Doc.

Doc’s eyes are closed as he paces back and forth in front of them, mumbling to himself. False and the cat guy stare at each other awkwardly before cat guy clears his throat. 

“We’ll let you two talk… Doc, make sure to not kill the guests and uh-” He blanks, staring at Grian.

Said male forcefully coughs, letting go of Mumbo and rushing to his feet, “Grian.”

Cat guy nods, “Scar. Anyways, Grian, I’ll show you to another room… these two… have catching up to do.”

Grian bites his lip, not wanting to abandon Mumbo, but one look from Scar and he knows it’s best if he doesn’t intrude on their personal issues.

So he follows Scar through a hallway and into a small room. The room has a small bed and chair. It’s basic and far from perfect, but Grian would take it over the forest any day.

Scar touches his back and Grian feels fingers press against his scars. Small tendrils of beady, painful memories threaten to burst from the dam. His throat tightens. He flinches, turning around and shoving the hand away in one quick movement.

The other’s eyes widen and he takes a step back, “Sorry-”

“It’s fine.”

Frowning in concern, Scar moves on, sitting down in a seat. “You should try to sleep a bit.”

Grian opens his mouth to argue, but freezes when he feels something pressing against his ankle.

_Huh?_

He stares down at a small gray and white cat that curls around his leg, purring fondly.

Scar gasps, “What! Jellie never does that-” He huffs, glaring at the cat, “Traitor.”

Jellie merely purrs, rubbing her head against his leg. He doesn’t move, unsure of what to do.

“Well if anything, I think she agrees that you should take a break.”

Grian sighs and walks over to the bed, Jellie following. He collapses on it and watches as the small gray and white cat jumps onto the bed and curls up on his chest. He smiles a small bit.

His eyes dart to Scar, who settles in the chair with a small crosswords puzzle.

“You still have blank crosswords?”

Scar blinks and then chuckles, “Oh no, we ran out a while ago. False is just kind enough to help me erase them every few days so I can redo them. We don’t have much to do, so I like to have a variety of things to do to keep me preoccupied.”

Grian hums, letting his head fall onto the pillow. He’s extremely tired, his head hazier than 80s radio stations, but he can’t seem to close his eyes. He hesitates.

_I don’t know if I can trust him… but I really need to air this out… And it’s not like Taurtis…_

_Stop thinking about him._

He shakes his head and forces himself to shove the words out of his mouth:

“Have you ever felt like a danger to everyone around you?”

A pain enters his heart, but another pain crawls around in his left hand. He knows what it is… he refuses to think about it.

Scar freezes. His eyes widen and he glances at Grian. Grian feels his eyes and turns his head to the side, avoiding eye contact.

Silence.

The longer the stranger is silent, the more and more Grian wants to scream and backtrack.

Then he hears the other clear his throat.

“I’m not sure…” He rushes to continue before Grian can interrupt, “But I personally think that someone can be less dangerous than they think.”

Grian closes his eyes, scrunching up his face to avoid letting himself break completely. Only small tears in his massive walls are allowed.

He hates that his voice almost cracks, “I don’t think they’re doing anything good being in certain people’s presence… Maybe they should just… leave.”

Scar’s response is immediate this time.

“No.”

His hands tremble, “ _Why not?_ ”

He hears the other set down the crosswords and sigh, “You’re not the only one who has an opinion in the matter. Obviously, you’re in full control of the final decision. But I think Mumbo, as your companion, whatever your specific relationship is, I don’t know, deserves a say in whether you abandon him. I’m sure he thinks very differently from how you do.”

Grian is about to respond when he realizes:

_He said ‘you’... guess I’m not exactly conspicuous._

_So I suppose I probably need to talk to Mumbo._

“First and foremost though, you should sleep pal.”

Taking a deep breath, Grian nods, “Okay.”

For the first time in a long time. He forces himself to fall asleep. Usually he sleeps when he’s nearly about to fall over, where he finds a hidden bush or something to sleep in so he’s still somewhat protected. This time though, he focuses on the warmth of Jellie and the weird comfort in Scar’s peaceful presence.

And with a kick from his exhausted brain, he falls asleep.

—

Mumbo listens to the footsteps as Grian, False, and Scar leave.

_Why do I hate being alone with Doc so much…? I shouldn’t… feel this way._

_I didn’t before._

Neither of them speaks.

For a long, excruciating time.

He sits there, on the floor, letting himself calm down and breathe normally, while Doc simply stands in place, staring at the ground in front of his dropped weapon. The two men both have piles of issues and the friend in front of them is not the one they remember or know.

Mumbo is almost happy about that thought.

_At least we still have something in common._

His head is sore, alongside his throat and knees. But he makes no move to do anything about it. All his freaking out drained everything out of him. So he just sits there.

After a while, he opens his mouth to say something, but then immediately closes it.

_What am I supposed to say?_

_Hey sorry I’m dead, but could you still help me?_

It seems Doc is headset on beating him to the punch when he hears him finally speak.

Doc’s voice is weak and small and defeated, something unheard of upon Doc.

“I’ll help you.”

Mumbo’s eyes widen, “Wait really? What-Why-”

The other sighs and sits down on the floor too, the sword the line between them.

He takes a deep breath, “I know why it’s not working.”

_How does he-_

Doc holds up a metallic finger, “I’m only going to revisit this memory right now for you, so you’ll know. Do not interrupt me, the last thing either of us need is me repeating anything.”

Mumbo nods frantically, simply happy that Doc agreed to help him. He focuses on Doc, who doesn’t meet eye contact and clears his throat a few times.

It takes at least two minutes before he finally states quietly and personally:

“I broke your machine… on purpose.”

_He… what._

Refraining from jumping to conclusions, Mumbo just frowns.

The other inhales sharply, “After the apocalypse started, we all stayed in the offices. We thought it’d be safe and I’d prepared some resources the week prior to the outbreak..”

“During the first month or two of being stuck in our offices, you managed to make your machine work for the first time. We were all excited and shocked… then that night, we were celebrating.. It was the first good thing in a while. But you suggested… that we use the machine to go back in time and prevent the outbreak.”

_Similar to what I plan to do when I get back… to what Grian asked._

Doc rubs his prosthetic with his non-robotic arm, “Iskall and I were nervous about it because the machine still had many things we weren’t sure about. So we decided to wait a bit and do some more researching. After a while it came to me, I disagreed heavily with your plan. You obviously agreed. Iskall was torn and chose to stay out of it. Then… one night I decided to make it impossible for you to go back.”

“I was against time travel heavily because I slowly started learning and realizing how many dangers outweighed anything relatively good. So I snuck behind your machine while you were asleep and messed up certain things so it wouldn’t work. None of us had touched it since it started working.”

He pauses.

“The next morning you realized something was up with the machine and we both started fighting. Iskall was looking at the machine while we argued. You started to freak out and then eventually you just locked yourself in one of the other offices. The next day you finally came out randomly and started sprinting down the stairs. You walked out into the street, which was filled with zombies.”

The other starts to shake as he grips tightly at the metal of his arm, “I tried to talk to you, we argued a bit and a lot of the zombies started to turn towards us. Then you just jumped into the mess of zombies… I tried to stop them… stop you. But I was oblivious and stupid and scared. You got eaten alive in front of me.”

“Then I met up with Bdubs and we left for Area 77. We met Scar and False on the way. Iskall remained in the city with Stress.”

_I…_

_I killed myself._

Doc sighs, “You had been acting weird for weeks, the apocalypse was breaking you… but I was so naive at the time, I didn’t even notice… not until you were already dead.”

Mumbo takes a deep breath and whispers, “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

The other shakes his head. He glances up, finally meeting his eyes.

“You didn’t hurt me. _He_ did.”

A question slithers into his head and he begrudgingly asks it, “Not to uh… be horrible, but what about that caused you to change your mind about helping me?”

Doc blinks and then runs a hand through his hair.

“While researching and doing personal inferences… I… I stumbled upon a circumstance from 1974. It took a while to translate from Russian, but it was a certain concept based off of an incident that still goes unexplained where a man went missing for three hours. He was found with his body having killed itself, they weren’t sure what happened but the guy had been known for wanting to travel time despite no one noting him creating or attempting anything. There was some other incidents that helped make up the theory, but that was the main one. The concept is that if you time travel to a time where you don’t exist…”

“Your body slowly deteriorates to match it. Basically, your body tears itself apart because it thinks it’s supposed to be dead.”

_Wait-_

“What does that have to do with me… Doc?”

Said male swallows, “Well it depends… Mumbo… have you had any chest pains or sudden bursts of pain at all?”

Mumbo freezes, mind rushing back to the weird sudden pain he hadn’t thought much of before… but now:

“I have a sudden burning and chest pain, but it wasn’t very long.”

Doc rubs his neck, “Not sure how to say this…”

He lets out the next few words with a blunt honesty, “Mumbo, I think your body is trying to slowly kill you.”


End file.
